


these hands that destroy (will save the world)

by haplesshippo



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bloodborne Fusion, Blood and Gore, Graphic Description, Unnecessarily long, Violence, and unnecessarily wordy, so OOC they might as well be OCs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 04:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11051151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haplesshippo/pseuds/haplesshippo
Summary: Sawada Tsunayoshi never felt right.  There was always an itching in the back of his head, like something would burst out and consume him, and sometimes his fingertips tingled, like there used to be claws instead of blunt human fingers.  In a search for somewhere he belongs, he travels to Nippon, a landmass in the middle of the ocean none dare to tread, full of monsters beyond horror’s imagination and beings risen from nightmares.





	these hands that destroy (will save the world)

**Author's Note:**

> This is an attempt at the Lovecraftian horror genre that makes up Dark Souls and Bloodborne, which entails gore and graphic depictions of decaying flesh and mutilated bodies (so yeah, warning). Characters will be OOC, so much so that they’re practically OCs. Anyways, reviews appreciated on writing style, and I tried to proof for tense breaks, which might not have been very successful. I also realize that a major flaw of this story is that the descriptions are really long and kind of repetitive. Thoughts?

_In the beginning, there were five Great Ones.  Nobody knew where they came from.  Some said that they emerged from the deepest abyss in the sea like eldritch horrors, come to bring death and destruction upon the land.  Some said that they descended from the heavens like benevolent angels, to guide the fate of humanity with benevolent hands.  Some even said that they rose from the land itself like great hulking beasts, part of the earth and mountains and glaciers._

_The Vindice was the first to rise, with his head wrapped in decaying bandages.  Rumors had it that his face was so horrific that any who laid eyes on him would find themselves falling into insanity.  Dressed in a cloak dark as night, the skeletal being ruled from the darkness, with underlings just as ruthless and violent as he, granting death to those who crossed him._

_The Simon followed, carving the earth and raising land from the ocean.  He created mountains and dug valleys and flattened the lands.  From his hands emerged the first living beings, twisted and feral like his own heart, and from those evolved the animals that roam the land today._

_The Millefiore was said to have descended from the sky like a vengeful angel, wings made of pure white feathers.  He burned those who were unworthy with beams of holy light that scorched the land and left trails of destruction in their wake.  Where the Vindice was darkness and death, the Millefiore was light and life._

_The Varia emerged from the shadows, swift and silent and deadly.  With his blood soaked guns and gut flecked face, the being led a fanatic following of killers and murdered all in his way, leaving a trail of mutilated bodies wherever he tread.  He struck horror into the hearts of any being that met him, and he reveled in violence and death._

_The last being was the Vongola, perhaps the most benevolent of all the Great Ones, but no less terrifying.  From his mouth dripped sweet, honeyed words before his flames burnt all those he deemed unworthy of living, but he was a fair being and judged impartially.  However, woe be to those who lived in depravity, for they would be struck down, leaving only ashes and dust where they had stood.  The Vongola was the one who bonded life to death, beasts to land, light to darkness, and without him, all life would collapse._

_These five beings used to rule over the world, guiding the humans with natural disasters and their own hands to curb their numbers, gifting them with times of prosperity and peace to encourage their survival.  However, one day, the Great Ones disappeared, as if they had never existed._

_Without the Vindice, all those who died did not stay dead but instead rose from their graves with a craving for living flesh.  The absence of the Simon led to the beasts of the land turning against their human counterparts, quick to slit their throats and feast on their bodies.  When the Millefiore disappeared, the sky darkened, and instead of a burning yellow sun, a dark, black moon hung forever in the sky, never moving, never shedding light.  There were none to curb the numbers of beasts, humans, and the scum who tread dark alleys without the murderous Varia, and soon those who flourished in the abyss rose to lay waste to the land.  The Vongola’s presence evaporated like smoke in the wind, and with no protection from the depraved and no order among the world, humans soon fell victim to dark beasts and corrupted corpses._

_The end is nigh now, with blood flooding the cobblestone streets and the lamps starting to flicker as their lights grow weak and the shadows grow strong.  Prophecy tells of one being who will find the missing Great Ones and return them to their thrones so that they may rule once more and bring order to the land.  However, til this day, a thousand years after the disappearance of the Great Ones, there is yet to be a being who can find and stand up to a god._

* * *

Tsuna has never felt right in his skin.  His teeth itch like there should be something bigger, _sharper_ , laid in his gums, and a pressure grows in the back of his head, ready to burst out and consume him.  Sometimes, in the dead of night, when the lamps flicker and the black moon outside is hidden behind thick clouds, he imagines his fingernails sharper than they are, able to carve into stone, and his skin rough and hard enough to withstand bullets and blades.  Sometimes, it feels as if a fire is burning throughout his body, that he more than a Hunter.   Tsuna feels as if he does not belong in this land.

Tomorrow, he will travel to an uncharted territory in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by mist and treacherous beasts.  Finding a ship willing to sail through the waters was not easy, but he was lucky to have found someone who is insane enough to brave the ocean.  In his holster is a gun, old and well used but still in working condition, and on his back is a warhammer, heavy enough to crush the skulls of the beasts and rotting undead who now roam the streets in search of fresh flesh.  On his hips are two daggers, plain but deadly sharp, that interlock into one another to form one blade, for use when the crushing blow of hammers and piercing shot of guns do not suit his needs.  He finds that his gun works best against feral dogs, the hammer best against slow enemies, and the daggers best for darting around throngs of undead in a whirl of blood.  He hopes that he will be able to put them to good use, to carve through beasts as much as he pleases.  Perhaps he will find solace from the (boring, and ever so dull) horrors that now fill the world and find excitement in the uncharted land, free to partake in his pound of flesh, to drench his weapons in crimson.

Often called Nippon, the new land is largely undiscovered.  None dare to stay there long, for there are tales of men who lose their sanity the first night from the whispers and shrieks of ghosts, the shadows that crawl up the walls, and the visions of things that skulk corners, beady eyes and skinny, bone thin fingers following their every move.  Perhaps there, Tsuna will find the answer to why he finds his fellow men so fragile, so worthless as they fall beneath the claws of the undead, why he holds such disdain for other Hunters who fail to push back against waves and waves of unholy beasts.

Tsuna is no fool.  He knows that what awaits in Nippon will be probably more horrific than what he finds here, but he thinks that at least there, he can find somewhere he belongs, away from other filthy humans, amongst the streets filled with things that should not exist.  Perhaps there, he can find that spark he yearns for, that fulfillment for the lack of excitement in his life.

Tsuna feels a savage excitement rising in his heart and bloodlust in his veins.

* * *

When he arrives, the boatman is crackling with laughter but still sane enough to leave as quickly as he can back to the mainland.  Tsuna is met with the sight of a deserted town that may have been an active port city a very long time ago, but is now dilapidated and filled with dust.  Tsuna is soon enough alone, and he shoulders his large hammer, fingers his gun, and palms his twin knives.  He takes his first step into the abandoned city. 

Immediately, something shifts, like a bone moving into place or a muscle that _should not be there_ finally flexing its claws, and his whole body is at ease, comfortable in a land of disease and death.  A signpost with ancient lettering that Tsuna cannot read points away from the ocean, where the stench of dead and decaying fish rises from, and Tsuna eagerly journeys on. 

It is not easy his first night, the bag he brought with him holding a meager amount of food and threadbare clothes.  He builds himself a fire to warm his hands and forgoes eating to instead rest his back against a wall, eyes scanning the roads.  He has yet to encounter a beast, but it is better to be awake and ready to fight than it is to be asleep and unaware, his Hunter instincts fully alert and aware.  Soon, Tsuna falls into a light slumber, and whenever he jolts awake, it’s to the sight of the dark moon still high above his head, never moving, never shining.

After he has dozed fitfully for a while (it is impossible for certain to tell time with no rising or setting sun), Tsuna unfolds himself from the cobblestone streets and continues his travels away from the ocean.

The city is large, colossally so, which lends evidence to the fact that, a thousand years ago, there had been active, thriving life in the uncharted land.  Occasionally, he catches a glimpse of white bone, shattered and long ago sucked of its marrow, but he does not see flesh, either living or dead, until he has spent a considerable time exploring the land.

“Oh my, oh my, well isn’t _this_ interesting.”

Tsuna happens upon a cloaked figure, huddled into the shadow of a looming wall.  Skeletal fingers poke out of a sleeve, white as bone and rotting with disease.  Tsuna speaks, his own voice hoarse from disuse.

“What’s interesting?”

“It has been a while since someone so untouched has travelled through this land,” the being says, voice coy and slimy, oozing like pus from a wound.  “You won’t stay unsoiled for long, though, oh no, oh no.  Soon, the disease will come to infect you too, and you will be the same as us.  Soon, you’ll be seeing and hearing things too.”  It laughs, a high, shrieking sound that echoes ominously through the empty streets.

“Who are you?” Tsuna asks, ready to shoot the man through the head.  “Answer my questions, and I will spare your life.”

“Oh, are you a Hunter?  I see those weapons by your side are well-worn.  My name is long forgotten, as is the name of many things here, but you can call me Reborn, if you want.  I used to be a Hunter too, you know, before this land took everything.”  The being rises, and, when standing, towers over Tsuna like the personification of death.  “I have been alive for hundreds of years, you see, and it has been a long time since I’ve spoken to someone.  Oh yes, oh yes, Nippon is covered in death, and those who used to be able to talk can’t do so anymore, and those that shouldn’t talk do.”

Tsuna turns his head to look down the empty street.  “Then what are you still doing here?  Why not leave?”

“With what boat?” Reborn asks, mockingly.  “And if I had the opportunity, I wouldn’t anyways, because I’m waiting, yes, yes, I’m waiting, you see!”

“For what?”

Reborn stills, and when he speaks, his voice is no longer shrieking, and his tone no longer insane.  The voice has dropped into a powerful boom, and shivers crawl up Tsuna’s spine at the sound.  A pale hand shoots out from beneath the cloak, and he draws Tsuna closer so that a tepid breath washes over his face, sweet and rotting.  “I’m waiting for the one in the prophecy, the one who will return the lords to their thrones and the world to its proper condition.”

The light from a nearby lamp flickers, causing shadows to dance under Reborn’s hood.  Tsuna sees hollow cheekbones and small, sharp teeth rotting to black.

“In fact, that might be _you_.”

Tsuna frees himself, throwing the man against the wall.  Reborn collapses into a pile of cloth, coughing and wheezing. 

“That’s just a legend.”  Tsuna feels his lips curl in disgust as he dusts his clothes.  Humans are filthy creatures.

Reborn laughs, high pitched, like metal screeching against metal.  “Oh no, oh no, it’s very real, trust me.  Perhaps you’d like to go on an adventure?  It won’t be easy, I can promise you that, but if you want to try your hand at it, I can help you.  For a price, that is.”

Tsuna turns to stride away, disgusted at the oily words that stink more than rotting flesh does, but Reborn is quick to yell out in desperation.

“Just a little blood, that’s all I need.  Give me just a little of your pure, sweet blood, and I can give you all the information you need, all the action and bloodshed and fighting to sate that bloodlust in you.  I can help you bring the Great Ones back to their thrones!” Reborn pleads.

The idea of fresh blood, of seeking out danger is tempting.  Blood sings through his veins at the prospect of violence, and the pressure in the back of his head is growing, urging him to accept the offer, to find his purpose in life, to chase that sense of belonging and home in the desolate and gore-strewn streets of Nippon.

“Very well.  I will give you blood, and in turn you will serve me in this…adventure,” Tsuna agrees and draws out his daggers to slice his palm into an awaiting goblet Reborn draws from his filthy sleeve.  When blood fills it to the brim, Tsuna wraps his hand, and Reborn greedily sucks it down. 

“Haa, yes,” Reborn purrs, satisfied.  “Although the rest of the world does not know where the Great Ones have disappeared to, it is no secret in this land.  We will find the first lord, Vindice, in Vindicare.”

* * *

Vindicare, according to Reborn, is where, before the Great Ones disappeared, the criminals and the insane were imprisoned.  When the dark moon rose in the sky and the land died, there was nobody to let them out, and instead, they rotted and turned undead.  Nobody knows what condition the facility is in, Reborn said, because nobody has attempted to go there in a very long time. 

When Tsuna arrives at the prison, it’s to the sight of a looming, metal structure, with great doors closed.  As Tsuna pushes against the one of the massive doors, and they creak open, from the crack comes the moans of the sick, the screams of the insane, and wails the dying.  Tsuna pushes the door wide open without pause and is met with the first sign of life (or undead, as the case is now) when a wailing, child-like humanoid figure rushes at him.  It has a large head, puffed out as if it had been filled with water until it became a balloon, and small tufts of ragged hair on its scalp.  It has no eyes, but from the hole in its head comes a wail. 

Tsuna easily crushes the thing with his warhammer, but the sound draws the attention of many more small, child-like creatures with disproportioned heads and holes with sharp little teeth.  It takes little work to kill them all, and soon, their smashed heads and pale, thin corpses litter the ground.  Tsuna explores the prison, and what he sees is enough to make any man claw his own eyes out.  It’s a good thing Tsuna is not any man.

The prison is more like a laboratory, full of beds with things in their restraints, connected to a dripping bag of liquid.  There are prison cells, with wailing things behind its bars, and some cells have been broken out of.  The experimental results of former inmates are grotesque.  Some have ten, beady, fly-like eyes and antennas that follow Tsuna’s every move, and some have a mass of growth coming out of the side of their abdomens.  Still more are hunched over and clawing at their bodies, with slime covering the opening of their mouths as they attempt to scream but no air leaves their mouths.

And then there are the whispers.

“Let me go, let me out of here, letmegoletmego _letmego_!”

“Just come in for a little while, child, I have treats and goodies for you if you just come in for a little while.”

“Blood dripping from the eyes, pus leaking from the mouth.  _The Vindice is here_.”

Tsuna scours the rooms, puts anything he finds out of its misery, and climbs countless stairs crawling with escaped inmates.  At the very top, he finds a large set of double doors, and with all his strength, he opens them.  There is a black throne, made of live shadows and human bodies.  They wail as legs bend ways they’re not meant to bend, and eyes roll as if unattached in their sockets.

“And who have we _here_?” the being on the throne asks.  He is large, with a head covered in bandages and glowing red orbs behind a slit where his eyes would be.  When he speaks, the things that make up his throne quiet their wails and reach their many, many arms towards Tsuna.  “Who are you, and what is your business?  Otherwise, leave, or you die where you stand.”

Tsuna lifts his head and speaks, “I am here to return you to your throne and responsibilities as a Great One.”

The Vindice laughs and rises, more than five times taller than Tsuna.  “You are an arrogant human, to order me.  For this, you will die!”

The fight is brutal and lasts until Tsuna is littered with bruises and has been thrown into walls numerous times.  The Vindice gives life to the darkness, steps into one shadow and appears out of another like a wraith.  His fingers are sharp as claws, but brittle as bone.  Tsuna uses his hammer to crush the corpses that have crawled from the throne to tie him down, hold down his legs with grasping hands so that the Vindice can teleport and scrape his fingers through Tsuna’s flesh.  Tsuna dodges and swings and parries strikes that would impale him and blows that would separate his head from his body. 

At one point, after Tsuna skids to the side and narrowly avoids being grabbed and impaled by an undead that has separated from the throne, Tsuna manages to strike a blow directly against the Vindice’s skull.  The bandages unravel, and his head emerges.  Blackened liquid oozes from many perforations in the head, which is topped with ragged, greasy black hair.  The eyes cry tears of red, trailing down his face and dripping onto the ground, drip, drip, drip.  Maggots crawl from every orifice, and when he opens his mouth, there is no tongue, no teeth, just row upon row of blades that dance in the shadows.  The Vindice has no nose, no nostrils, and the skin that should be on his face is ripped apart and patched together like a quilt pattern.

“Curious, that you do not flee at the sight of my face,” the Vindice says, pausing his strikes.  “You have not yet gone mad in this land of decay, which is a credit to your willpower.  Tell me, why do you seek to return the world to how it was a thousand years ago?  To give mankind a chance again?  Is it a dream for normalcy?  Or are you seeking glory?”

Tsuna shakes his head.  “I have no reason.  I am merely searching for a place to belong.”

“Curious,” the Vindice repeats before the black cloak, the living mass of shadows, unravels from the figure.  His body is a skeleton, with the rib cage trapping screaming beasts and legs made of twitching bones that work together to move.  “The Hunters who came to challenge me before usually did it for the survival of humanity, but you seem to care naught for the lives of your fellow men.  Let us resume our fight, and should you win, I will return.  Upon my honor as a Great One, I swear it.”

It seems that the Vindice has increased his own power, for his blows are more powerful, and he’s quicker.  He teleports in the shadows, springing up from behind Tsuna to tear a bloody gash through his side and melting out of the ground like a nightmare.

However, Tsuna is quick, and Tsuna is powerful.  At the end of the fight, Tsuna holds his hammer above the Vindice’s skull, threatening to be crushed with a simple twitch of the human’s hand.

“You will return to your throne as a Great One, and you will repair the damage that your and the others’ absences have caused,” Tsuna intone before letting the hammer put more pressure on the skull.  The tears of blood track over patched skin, hanging loose off of white porcelain, and the maggots wriggle frantically.  “Or you will die here.”

“I will return,” the Vindice replied, and Tsuna allows the god to rise.  He kneels in front of Tsuna and says, “You have defeated me, and as I had vowed, I will return.  I will look forward to seeing if any of the others return.”

“They will,” Tsuna says, with not an ounce of doubt in his words.

The Vindice wraps his head.  “You truly are fascinating.  You do not care much for humanity, yet you search for companionship and understanding and a home.  I have met one such as you before, although he was not a Hunter.”

“Your words mean nothing to me,” Tsuna says.  He shakes his head.  “Begone, and return to where you belong.”

* * *

 “Come back so soon, have you?” Reborn asks, his huddled figure in the same corner Tsuna first found him in.  It seems as if his fingers are no longer so skeletal, and the skin no longer as pale.  “And the Vindice has returned?”

“Yes,” Tsuna replies, setting down his gun and hammer but keeping his knives on him just in case.  Nobody in this land is trustworthy, not even an insane, decrepit old man.  “The Vindice has returned.  Where will I go next?”

Reborn makes a tutting sound and waggles his finger teasingly at the human.  “Oh no, no, no, not yet, you see!  For I require another price from you before I give you the location of the Simon.”

“Then out with it, you depraved creature,” Tsuna snarls, and Reborn hastens to comply.

“A lock of your hair, good sir, and only that, I promise,” Reborn gibbers, and he cups his hand for Tsuna to drop a lock of brown hair, cut from his head with his knives.  “Thank you, sir, thank you.”

Reborn draws the cupped hands to his mouth and eats the hair, swallowing it and hacking out a cough.

“Where, then, am I headed?” Tsuna asks impatiently, and Reborn peers at him from beneath the hood.

“The Simon is located in the mountains, inside a tomb that was carved into the side of the tallest mountain to house royalty.  He resides there, separated from the outside, and creates horrible beasts that snarl fire and spit ice,” Reborn says shrilly.  “I would recommend you be more careful.  With the return of the Vindice, death is once more a threat to everything that lives here, and the beasts fight more viciously than ever before in fear of eternal death.  Stick to the shadows as they are now afraid to venture into the Vindice’s element, and you will have safety.”

Tsuna nods and leaves immediately without a word of thanks.

* * *

 To reach the mountains that are located not far from the deserted city, Tsuna travels through a swamp that is home to a myriad of creatures.  Some fly and spit poison, while some crawl on the ground and attach themselves to Tsuna, cutting flesh and drinking blood.  The swamp itself is also a danger, poisonous fumes rising thick, and the longer Tsuna stays in it, the more lightheaded he becomes.  Moans echo from undead that crawl in the swamp.

After Tsuna has managed to make his way through the swamp, he then descends into a valley between two mountains, where the tomb is.  The creatures get stranger and stranger as he progresses.  As Reborn had warned, they are more vicious as well, alarmed at the prospect of death.  Ravens the size of dogs, flightless because of their mass but no less dangerous because of their sharp beaks.  Dogs that can have strips of flesh handing from their bellies and strings of saliva drooling from their maws.  Serpents that have tangled together so much that they are intertwined permanently and can only move as a whole.  Fish that have risen from the water with legs covered in scales and gasping for air. 

The entrance of the tomb is guarded by a large pig the size of a small house, with small, beady eyes and skin dotted in liver spots and warts.  It has rolls of fat that hang off of its body and big, calloused warts across its skin, but it is powerful when it charges at Tsuna.  Tsuna easily slits the tendons in its legs with his daggers so that it crashes onto the ground with a squeal that pierces Tsuna’s ears, and then he cuts its throat before it can rise again.

The inside of the tomb is full of cages that house the strangest beasts.  There are birds with the legs of a lion, and lions with the head of a bird.  There are dogs that can fly with black crow wings, and crows that flap their wings and snap their canine teeth at Tsuna.  Some cages are broken, and Tsuna must make his way through the tomb while fending off the horrendous beasts that plague nightmares.

Like with the Vindice, the Simon resides in the innermost room, curled around a grave from which rises a statue of what must have been a king.  The god has a serpent that writhes on the ground for a tail, and bird-like talons for front paws.  He is also many headed, a goat and a lion and a fish.  The goat has five eyes, all beady like a spider’s, while the fish has three that are eerily human and the lion none at all.  He is surprisingly clean and well-groomed compared to the dirty, bloody, rotting animals outside, but when he blows out a breath, it is filled with the stench of bile and infection.

“You are the Simon,” Tsuna says, calling attention to himself.  The beast rises, a half-chewed feline in its paws.  He is as tall as Tsuna is, which is not very, but for a beast sporting multiple heads and various animal body parts, he is also terrifying.

“Who are you?” the Simon asks in multiple voices, a concert of the hiss of a snake with the growl of a lion, bleat of a goat with the burbling of a fish.  The sound is grating, like the sound of metal screeching across metal, of something that should not exist.  “What are you doing here?  Do you wish to die at my jaws?”

“I am here to return you to where you belong, ruling over the beasts of the land,” Tsuna replies.  “The beasts have become feral and are attacking the humans and spreading death throughout the land.  You will return to rule them.”

The Simon laughed, which is impossibly even more terrifying.  “You?  A tiny Hunter, return _me_?  I will eat you for your insolence!”

The beast lunges, quick as a leopard and agile as a monkey.  The serpent lashes out, fangs poised to strike and kill, while a large paw slaps at where Tsuna had just been standing.  Talons flash, and the goat swings its head in a wide arc to throw Tsuna to the ground where the fish can then shoot spines and scales like deadly knives coated in poison.

Tsuna bleeds, despite his best efforts.  He dodges and strikes and blocks, lunges and dashes and parries.  He is filthy and he is tired, his stamina quickly running out.  The exit is blocked, and he has no choice but to fight.

“Do you know who I am?” the Simon bleats as it crashes its talons into the ground.  “I am the creator of beasts, risen from the land, and you dare order a being such as I?”

Tsuna pants, leaning momentarily on the tomb’s statue.  He hides in the shadows, like Reborn had advised, and climbs the statue to escape the beast’s vision.  From above, he can see where each animal’s neck meets the main body, seamed perfectly from scale to fur, feathers to skin.  He jumps and aims his knives at the base of the snake and cuts it off cleanly.  The Simon screams in fury and pain, and Tsuna uses this moment to switch to his hammer and slam the blunt weapon into the fish head.

“You will surrender, or I will shoot the lion’s head, and all you will have left is a goat for a head,” Tsuna threatens, pressing his gun against fur.

“I surrender,” the Simon growls, although he is not happy with the outcome.  He rises slowly as Tsuna backs away and _shifts_.  Suddenly, there is a red-haired man in place of the beast, covered in the skins of animals and healthy-looking, like nothing else Tsuna has seen in this land before.  At his feet pool the pelts and skins of his beasts.  A strange feeling rises within Tsuna, a feeling of…kinship, like when one is faced with a creature similar to oneself.  “You’ve done well, to defeat me.  It is a blow to my pride to be defeated by your hand.  Tell me, do I know you?  Your blood smells familiar, but it is a memory long forgotten.”

“I’ve never met a being like you,” Tsuna returns carelessly, but something within reaches its tendrils towards the man.  “You will now return to control your beasts.”

“Very well, but I cannot do so alone, for without the others, stability will not return.  Although death is delivered by the Vindice, death itself is dealt by the Varia, and light by the Millefiore.  Even if you had the four of us, the Vongola is what holds our realms together.  And not even I know where the Vongola is,” the Simon says before taking a seal pelt from his collection of skins.  He offers the skin to Tsuna.  “This will protect you until you leave the valley from the beasts.  When you are done, toss it to the ground, and it will return to me.”

Tsuna picks up the tepid pelt, turns, and leaves.  Perhaps there will be some peace for the rest of the world, now.  He slips in the shadows, the foul pelt around his shoulders, and exits the tomb.  Outside, the wild look has left many of the beasts’ eyes, and none look further than the skin that cloaks his shoulders, but they are still a patchwork of feathers and fur and scales and skin.  Perhaps that will take time, and soon humans will not have to worry about the creatures that haunt the dark soon.

* * *

 “Back already!  Well done, well done!” Reborn crows.  There is black hair underneath his hood now and a quality of strength in his movements, a marked change from when Tsuna first met him.  “I trust you were successful, yes?”

“I was,” Tsuna says, stoking a fire to life under the darkness of the moon.  He puts his hands to the warmth and notices the rats darting along the streets and the howls of wolves.  The screams of the undead have begun to slither from their surroundings, unwilling to die but falling apart as their natural lifespans come to an end.

“Do you hear that?  The undead are dying, and the creatures return to life.  These are our accomplishments.  Aren’t you just _proud_?” Reborn shrieks with ungodly laughter.  Despite his healthier appearance, he is no less unhinged than the first time Tsuna met him.

“You will cease your nonsense lest I slit your throat,” Tsuna threatens, and Reborn stops abruptly, only to lean disturbingly close.

“I think, for my next price, you will give me a fingernail clipping.  Yes, yes, that’ll do.”

Tsuna snarls at the man at the proximity, prompting him to withdraw.  He clips his fingernails with his knife and drops the remains into Reborn’s awaiting hand.  Like the other two prices, the fingernails are eaten, and Reborn sighs, satisfied.

“Very good.  Now, let me ask you.  Have you started your slip into insanity yet?” Reborn asks.  There is a mocking echo in his voice, nasal and condescending.

“I am becoming insane with your rambling.  Close your mouth against information I do not need and tell me where the next Great One is.”

“All in due time, my friend, but I want to _know_.  Do you sometimes see things with eyeballs that should not have eyeballs?  Maybe a creature rising from the graveyard, or walls with arms that grab at you?  Do you see things that should be impossible?” Reborn asks, pressingly.  It is the most emotion Tsuna has seen Reborn express other than the glee of insanity.

“Everything here should be impossible.”

“Well, yes, I suppose.”

“But,” Tsuna continues, casting a wary eye at Reborn, “if you must ask, no, I have not seen anything that is particularly out of the ordinary in this strange land.”

Reborn seems disappointed.  “Pity.  Maybe you will next time I see you.”  His moods abruptly switch, and he claps his hands.  “Now!  You will be going to a grand castle, yes, and in this castle is a courtyard.  From here, you must ring a bell to call down the Millefiore from the black moon.  But take care, because those bells also grant life to those you’ve already defeated, no matter that the Vindice has returned to godhood.”

“Splendid,” Tsuna deadpans.

* * *

 The castle is a large and sprawling structure, old with age in its stones and weathered by the wind.  Tsuna sees reanimated corpses, rotting and moaning.  Some of them have fused with one another, creating things with three legs and two heads and five arms, all walking around with jerky movements.  Their skin is red and blistered, and their hair matted. 

Tsuna slays them with just as little hesitation as he did with the prisoners and the beasts.

The more he killss, however, the more he sees of what Reborn had spoken of.  Some of the undead are large, hulking figures, with muscles outside their skin instead of inside.  They carry in one hand large clubs covered in the entrails, and in the other, a lantern.  During his first encounter, Tsuna had not noticed anything unusual about them, but the more he progresses through this demented castle, the more he notices floating eyes in the lanterns and arms reaching out from the wall, all of which weren’t there before.

His disturbing hallucinations are not made better by the bell maidens, ghostly females that are surprisingly elegant and beautiful carrying bells that, when rung, raise all those Tsuna had slain before back to life.  He traverses across the castle in search of the Millefiore, cutting down the wretched women so that the dead stay dead and he doesn’t have to check over his shoulder to see if the newly slain monster will rise again.  Tsuna makes it a point to shoot them right between their beautiful, pale eyes, brain matter splattering the stone walls.

It is not long before he makes it to a courtyard, where several bells ring simultaneously.  In the middle of the courtyard, there is a table, and on it a small, golden bell.  Tsuna rings it, and from above the black moon begins to bleed.

Black drips from the orb, and the dark light becomes more pronounced.  The ringing bells increase in frequency, and the moon descends to the simultaneous, ear-splitting chimes of the bells.  The strange ooze coalesces, crawling up and down and twisting and churning until it reveals a humanoid figure, a man with white hair and purple markings under his eye.  His skin is as pale as the moon is supposed to be, and when he stands, the smile upon his face is both harmless and threatening.

“Why do you disturb me?” the being asks, smile widening with his sweet words and smooth voice.  It sounds like the singing of corpses.

“I’ve come to return you to your throne as a Great One,” Tsuna says.  “You will go willingly, or I will fight you to force you to leave this realm.”

“Oh, how charming,” the Millefiore coos, sickeningly sweet, like the slow spread of infection.  “Very well then, let us see how a Hunter fares in a fight against me.”

Suddenly, a ball of pure, burning light and energy falls from the side of the courtyard, and Tsuna notices a second level, upon which six bell maidens stand, one hand casting more magic, the other ringing the bell in concert.  It seems that Tsuna must kill them first before he can focus all his attention on the Millefiore.

The Millefiore is fast, with his own blinding white magic creating destruction in his wake to destroy the first set of stairs leading to the second level.  Tsuna feigns towards the Millefiore, who curls his fingers into claws in preparation for a melee battle, but instead darts towards the second set of stairs and quickly dispatches the maidens.

When Tsuna manages to cut down the last of the wretched witches, the Millefiore stills, predator-like, and his back ripples, like worms crawling under skin.  Tsuna warily descends to the lower level of the courtyard again.

“So you have defeated my followers.  Very well then, I will fight you seriously!” the Millefiore announces.  From his back comes two large, bloody white wings, feathered with razor sharp blades.  As they emerge, they cut a lattice of thin red onto the being’s back.  From his hands glow white energy, blinding to look at.  “Face me at full power, human.”

The first bolt of energy that flies towards Tsuna is burning hot and singes his skin through armor.  It is too dangerous to get close to the Great One, whose wings beat and burn the air, so Tsuna abandons his knives and hammer for his gun.  He cocks the weapon and dodges around a great pillar of white light that cuts through stone as easily as butter.

It takes one, careful bullet to separate one of the Millefiore’s wings from his body.  The white figure shrieks as he plummets towards the ground and collapses in a heap.  The separated wing writhes on the ground, dirtied to a light grey.  The Millefiore picks himself back up and lunges, one clawed hand aiming for Tsuna’s throat.  The remaining wing beats powerfully, buffeting the human against a wall.  It easily topples pillars and crushes stone, but Tsuna dodges and unsheathes his knife, gliding smoothly around the being to slice the other wing off.

“You will _die_ ,” the Millefiore seethes, all signs of coyness gone.  In its place is sweet death and promises of pain.

“We all die at some point.” Tsuna’s reply is wry.  How strange, that it is in the middle of a fatal dance when he finds humor.  He points his gun right at the Millefiore’s chest and blasts the torso point-blank.  It explodes, showering Tsuna with organs and bodily fluids, bitter and sour.  Tsuna steps over to the torso and aims his gun at the head of the body, intestines pooling out of the cavity made by the blast of the gun and heart visibly beating frantically.  “And you will too, unless you return as a Great One.”

The Millefiore smiles, honey-sweet again, and says, “Very well, you have my agreement.  You remind me of someone I knew long ago.  He was determined and as ruthless as you are, yet he had a kind heart, sparing those who could be redeemed.  Maybe you can find him again.”

“You speak of the Vongola?”

“I speak of the Vongola,” the Millefiore agrees.  He pushes himself up onto his arms, uncaring that his legs are almost separated from the rest of his body. 

Tsuna sits beside the ancient god, because so far he is the most human-looking by far, and not as nauseating to look upon as the Simon or the Vindice.  “Why did you abandon your duties?”

“Me, or the rest of the Great Ones?” the Millefiore asks before answering both questions.  “I left when the Vongola left.  One day, he disappeared from his duties, and without his influence to harmonize my light with the Vindice’s death and the Varia’s destruction, without his ability to bind the Simon to his beasts, everything fell apart.  So, of course, because a world without the Vongola is a terribly boring one, I left to steal away the sun and give an everlasting black moon.  But with you forcibly returning us, it is time we return to our duties.”

“So it was all just entertainment for you?” Tsuna hisses, strangely enraged at the cavalier attitude the Millefiore takes.  It’s a wonder that, at the beginning of the journey, Tsuna could care less about the fate of his fellow humans, but now, he is indignant at the thought of greater powers playing with their lives.

The Millefiore narrows his eyes, and his smile cuts like a blade.  “Tell me, have you ever abandoned your homeland for the unknown, just for that spark of excitement and belonging?”  Tsuna is silent.  “Good luck on the rest of your endeavor.”

* * *

 “I hear of your great success!” Reborn exclaims upon seeing Tsuna again.

“And from whom do you hear this from?” Tsuna asks as he sits to polish the guts from his gun.  He methodically takes apart the weapon and makes sure that each part is free of debris and dust and blood.  When he looks towards Reborn in question, the being’s attention is firmly on Tsuna’s hands and the detached parts of his gun.  “Reborn,” Tsuna growls, warningly.

Reborn shakes himself out of his fascination with the weapon and turns his head towards Tsuna.  “Why, the sun is out, of course, did you not see?  Granted, it is a bloody red sun, but we can’t expect everything to return to normal with only three gods on their thrones!” he says, sing-song and gratingly.

And indeed, after his defeat, the Millefiore had turned to the skies, but instead of reforming into a black moon, a sun rose, bloody red and casting everything in colors of pink.

Tsuna continues to polish his knives next, unlocking the two blades from their formation as one.  “Reborn, do you think it is wrong that I feel like I belong here?  That I left my life behind to find excitement in this depraved land?” Tsuna asks.

“Yes, of course you’re _mad_ , everyone in this land has gone mad by now, but wrong?  No,” Reborn responds.  “We’re all mad.  Have you started having strange visions yet?”

“I have.  It is like you said,” Tsuna admits as he finishes with his knives and drags his hammer into his lap.  The hammer is often the dirtiest, with dried bone and brain matter caked onto its surface.

“Then you’ve officially become mad,” Reborn says, sounding satisfied.  “I think my price for today will be your story.  Tell me of the land you came from, and your journey to this land of madness.”

And so Tsuna tells a story of a young boy who was born quiet and still, of how the only sign of life was his open brown eyes.  He tells the story of how the young boy had never had a father and how the mother died from plague.  He tells the story of how he learned how to live on the streets, to kill the undead and roast their hearts over fire, how to spit a dog on a pole and use it as bait for even bigger prey for dinner.  He tells the story of how he never felt as if he belonged in that other land, how there was a predator waiting to burst out of his skin.

He also tells the story of how he’d always looked down upon his fellow Hunters, how he’d found them worthless and fragile because they could not stand against the world like he.  He tells of how, since he came here and been faced with the casual cruelty of the land and fallen deities, he’s gained an appreciation for humankind’s ability to _survive_ , how he’s learned that perhaps he was wrong to think men pathetic.

“It sounds as if you were born for this land,” Reborn chuckles, and strangely enough, when he crosses his arms, the bones no longer protrude from his hands, which are a tan color.  The nailbeds are healthy and smooth, and Reborn’s voice is no longer as grating as it had been the first time Tsuna met him.

“Maybe,” Tsuna says, thrown by the strange revelation.  “So tell me about the fourth Great One.”

“The Varia is the most deadly of all five, for although the Vindice _is_ death, the Varia is the one who delivers sweet oblivion.  He kills indiscriminately, choosing those who slink in the shadows and those who can challenge his skills to wet his blade.  He never stays in one place for long, but I think you may find him at an academy a day’s travel from here.”

“An academy?” Tsuna asks doubtfully.

“His followers used to be well-studied assassins, a cult of death merchants who traded in poison and blades and, perhaps most importantly for assassins, knowledge.  They housed themselves at the academy, and you will most probably find him there too,” Reborn informs.  “Be aware of the assassins, though.  If you cannot handle his cult, you probably cannot handle the Great One either.”

* * *

 The academy, it turns out, is less an academy and more a graveyard for creatures half fallen apart and rotting.  Victims of the Varia, Tsuna muses, who have not yet achieved a permanent death and are only half living until someone puts them out of their misery.  Tsuna is happy to do so.

Tsuna carves his way through the academy, slicing apart things with strips of skin hanging from their faces and eyes decaying in their sockets.  These enemies, by far, are the easiest that Tsuna has faced yet, unlike relentless assault of the prisoners or the cunning quickness of beasts or the constant revival of things that Tsuna had already slain.  These creatures are slow and dumb.

That is, until the assassins bleed out of the darkness.  They appear, quick as the wind and silent as the night.  Covered in black uniforms, they wear hoods that cast shadows over their eyes and wield blades that trail blackness.  Tsuna is caught off guard when the first appears and pays dearly with a wound across his forearm.  He grits his teeth and slays the assassin, but instead of falling to the ground as a corpse, it evaporates into the air.  Each corner Tsuna turns, each hallway he traverses, more of these assassins appear and disappear, as if they are illusions. 

When Tsuna arrives at the grand hall, his stamina has worn thin.  He is tired and littered in bruises and cuts, although he was vigilant.  The moment he steps into the large space, which perhaps served as a lecture hall when the academy was still functional, the doors behind him slam shut, and assassins appear, perhaps thirty in number.  They keep to the walls shadows and do not approach him, and when they speak, it is as one.

“We have heard tales of what you have done, Hunter,” they say, and Tsuna does not know which to address, so he speaks to the air.

“If you have, then you know why I’ve come,” he responds.  “Reveal the Varia, so that I may fight him.”

They sigh in unison, and slowly, the ones behind him begin to stalk towards the lecture platform at the front.  Slowly, they begin to merge, blank onto black, shadow onto shadow, before what is looking at Tsuna is not many assassins, but one, with thirty arms and thirty legs and thirty faces.  They wield a variety of weapons, from sharp swords to throwing knives to concussive guns to, strangely, a parasol-like lance.  They grin, sharp teeth bloodthirsty, simultaneously, and say, “We _are_ the Varia, little human.  Do you think you can still defeat us?”

Then the rumors of the Varia’s cult are mistaken, Tsuna realizes.  It is not many following one leader, but the many that _is_ the leader.  All for one, and one for all.

“No matter how many there are of you, you will still fall,” Tsuna declares before he rushes at the Varia.

The Varia is, despite its multiple legs and arms and heads, unencumbered, and even worse, from whichever angle Tsuna approaches from, he can never take the creature by surprise.  From the front, there are eyes watching his movements, and from the back, there are hands grasping blades that fend off his attack.  The body itself is a roiling mass of black, and it hurts Tsuna’s head to look at.

“I was the Vongola’s closest, did you know?” the voices ask, and it hurts Tsuna’s ears, scrapes across his eardrums.  “And without him taking the reins of the world back in his hands, I will do nothing.”

“It’s a good thing that I’m going after him next, then,” Tsuna grits.  He fires his gun, once, twice, at a face, but it ducks out of the way, into the black shadows, and the bullets sink harmlessly into its body.  There is a sharp pain splitting across his head from the inside, both from the voices that seems like everything is screaming at him at once and the sight of so many appendages, all part of a blackness that he cannot look directly at without vomiting.

It is a miracle that, when he fires his gun again, he hits one of the pale arms emerging from a black sleeve, and the thing shrieks.  A single assassin falls out of the throng, and Tsuna unlocks his twin daggers from each other and throws one directly at the head.  The thing wails and melts into the ground.  Hopefully, that means it is gone.

It is easier when Tsuna works out how to defeat the Varia.  Patiently, he waits and dodges and defends until he can duck under a grasping arm and slam his hammer into a face.  Similarly to the first, the body the face belongs to tumbles and is ejected from the rest, and Tsuna is quick in crushing its body under the heavy warhammer.

And thus, steadily, the Varia is whittled away, until only a mass of perhaps ten (Tsuna has long ago stopped relying on his eyes when looking at the creature) remains.  Tsuna is about to fire his gun point-blank into the head of another assassin before they speak.

“I will not lose any more,” the Varia says, and abruptly, they drop their weapons.  “I am not so prideful to die in the face of a superior force.  It takes much effort to create more parts, and I am reluctant to do so.”

“So you will return.”

“Yes,” the Varia agrees.  It separates into seven (Tsuna was wrong, and he doubts that his eyes will work the same after this fight), and they slink away until the last remaining is larger, with two guns sheathed on its waist and, strangely, vibrant feathers decorating its hair.  Other than this, though, there are no more details that can be made out, with its black hood covering the tan face.

“I will return.  However, you may as well give up your last mark, although you have done surprisingly well for a mortal.  Nobody, not even I, knows where the last Great One is,” the Varia says, and its voice is low and ominous.  “The day the Vongola disappeared, we all also abandoned our responsibilities, because without him, we squabble and fight amongst ourselves.  He is the order to our chaos, but without him, the world is as doomed as it was without any of us.”

“Why did he leave?” Tsuna asks, wiping his own blades and locking them together before stowing them away.  He hefts his warhammer onto his shoulders and pats his gun.  Only a few bullets left.

“We do not know.  He is not as benevolent as you humans make him to be,” the Varia sneers.  “I think he grew bored, or perhaps disgusted, with the world and mankind, for the waste and destruction you Hunters lay upon the land, and abandoned it because he could not stand it.  I think he planned to gather us when the rest of your disgusting species fell, so he could build a new world.  I think he will not come back, and you will not find him, because I have not felt his presence in years.  But what I think does not matter, because your search will be fruitless.”

“I think that, after a thousand years, he’ll have realized by now that we are hardier and more determined than he thinks.  Thank you,” Tsuna says for the information.  “I trust you to return to your responsibilities.”

The Varia nods, disgusted but willing, and vanishes.

“You are wrong.  I will save my race, and I will find the Vongola.”

There is some new admiration for the human race, in the face of hardship and the abandonment of its gods, and Tsuna, despite his initial lackluster attitude, will do his most to find the Vongola.

* * *

 “The Varia is back on his throne,” Tsuna announces as he returns to where Reborn usually is.  However, this time, Reborn is not there.  Tsuna travels the cobblestone streets, which are starting to fill with animals and flood with red sunlight.  He finally finds the normally cloaked figure by the ocean, where he himself had landed so many days, weeks, years ago on his quest for a place to belong.  “Reborn,” Tsuna calls, questioningly, because he has never seen Reborn with this appearance.

Reborn turns, and he is without his cloak.  Instead, there is a leather tricorne perched on his head, and he has a ragged coat that reaches the back of his knees.  There are multiple belts strung across his body, each holding several small bags that clink with movement.  On his waist is holstered two pistols.  The face itself is sharp and elegant, with hair curling on the sides of his face.  He is obviously tired, but there is a grim expression lining his black eyes.  He is lean and tall, without a hunch, and his angular face holds fatigue and determination.

“I was a Hunter, come to this land to return the world to order.  Before, my name was Renato,” Reborn says, quietly, and Tsuna stills and listens, because he has never heard Reborn’s story.  “I was arrogant and strong, filled with the life of youth.  Much like you, I found boredom on the mainland and searched for excitement and challenge, hoping perhaps I would be the mortal mentioned in legends.  However, I underestimated the viciousness of this world, and soon I was dragged down by the strain of constantly fighting for my life, of seeing things that should be dead and things that should not even exist.  My mind could not make sense of the world, and I was dragged into insanity.  However, now I remember, because of what you have given me.

“Blood, to fill my body with warmth again.  Hair, to bring strength back into my body.  Fingernail clippings, to give me determination and willpower.  Your story to madness, to return sanity to my own mind.  And now, I require one more sacrifice of you.

“I need your soul, so that I may defeat the Vongola.”

Without hesitation, Reborn pounces, guns in both of his hands and cocked, ready to shoot, to maim, to _kill_ , and Tsuna is struck with betrayal.  Tsuna is wholly unprepared but manages to dive out of the way in time.  The bullets embed themselves in cobblestone.

Tsuna finds that he is unwilling to fight back.  Reborn, who has been the only one to keep him company on cold nights.  Reborn, who has explained this backwards land to him.  Reborn, who set him on this ludicrous quest so long ago, who helped open Tsuna’s eyes, expand his mind and heart.

“There is one more reason I need your life, you see,” Reborn says, and there is some undefinable emotion in his eyes, but his weapons do not waver, and his actions do not falter.  “I figured it out, after I realized that even when you began seeing eyes in lanterns and arms in walls, that even after you had stayed here for years, you showed no sign of falling apart.  There is only one kind of being that can survive this twisted, wretched world unharmed.  There is only one thing that can bring down four gods single-handedly and suffer no lasting damage.

“You are the last Great One.  You are the Vongola, and to return you to your proper place and return this world to order, I will kill you.

“I do not know why you left.  I do not know why you carelessly allowed so much blood to be shed, such horrors to be released to the world.  I do not know why you tested humanity to such great lengths.  But I do know that I must put you back to where you belong, so that we may live!”

The pressure in Tsuna’s head grows, and he cries out as a bullet pierces his shoulder in his distraction.  Tsuna brings out his giant hammer to deflect the bullets, but no matter how many Reborn fires, he doesn’t seem to run out.  Tsuna grits his teeth.

“You’re lying,” Tsuna snarls and swings his hammer in a wide arc, catching Reborn in the side and flinging the man into a wall.  However, his blow lacks power, and Reborn is not seriously injured.  “You, whom I have trusted, are lying, and I will kill you for it.”

“Death would be a sweet embrace after the life I’ve lived,” Reborn groans as he lifts his body from the rubble.  He stumbles to his feet and fires a warning shot at Tsuna, who had begun to unsheathe his blades.  “I would prefer if you didn’t struggle, please.”

Tsuna rushes at the taller man and throws his combined knives at the man.  Together, they are heavier and strike Reborn’s guns with much more force.  Reborn drops one, hands shaking from a numbness that spreads to his shoulder, and Tsuna takes this opportunity to go on the offensive.  He picks up the interlocked blades and strike at Reborn’s throat.  The taller man grunts and pitches himself backwards, the blade kissing his skin but leaving no mark.  With his other hand, Tsuna grabs his warhammer and slams it into Reborn’s side, this time much harder than before.  There is a crunch of bone.

“You are a filthy liar,” Tsuna screams, although the pressure in his head is growing, and something is crawling out of his chest, and his nails are lengthening and his skin is blackening.  “I would do so much to see the world saved, and you’re accusing me of being the one who abandoned it?”

“You accepted my missions out of boredom,” Reborn retorts, coldly despite the pain that he must be in.  His arm is crushed, and several ribs are clearly broken and have pierced through his skin and clothes.  Blood trails from his mouth, but there is still a savagery on his blood-stained lips and pitch-black eyes.  “Do not pretend that you care.”

The piercing throbbing in Tsuna’s head makes him clutch at his head in pain, and he hazily aims his gun at the other Hunter and shoots blindly.

Reborn ducks and shatters Tsuna’s kneecap with a twitch of a finger and the ring of a gunshot.  The brown haired human screams.

“You’re lying,” Tsuna gasps again as Reborn rests the muzzle of his gun against the downed man’s throat.  “I care.  I care now.”

“I am glad to hear that.  Perhaps you will be a better god to us now.  I’m sorry,” Reborn rasps, injured.  He fires.

With the light dimming from Tsuna’s eyes, Reborn quickly ducks and brings Tsuna’s lips to his own.  He inhales and feels something light but powerful flow from the dying human’s to his own body, and h  feels alight with power, almost painfully brimming with bright fire.  Tsuna’s cooling corpse is shifting, changing, something crawling and wriggling beneath muscles, as if it is no longer happy under the fragile skin of a human and hungering for more space.  Reborn knows that if he does not finish the ritual quickly, what will be released is not a Great One, but the corrupted container of one.

Reborn takes out his goblet, the same that he used to collect Tsuna’s blood, and throws up a black, viscous liquid that oozes and shifts as if alive.  It contains the blood, hair, nails, memory, and soul of a Great One, taken from its human host and returned to the body of god, as well as the sacrifice of a Hunter’s life.

“Drink this, and return from whence you came, Great One.”  Reborn tips the liquid onto Tsuna’s lips, and the moment the liquid is gone, Reborn collapses, a still, cold corpse.

Tsuna  screams.  Fire burns through his veins, muscles and bone shift in his body, and the never ending pressure bursts in a shower of bright light in his head.  Light pours out of every orifice in his body, and he feels himself rising, with nails sharper than knives, skin tougher than steel, and flames brighter than the sun.  He opens his eyes to the sight of four other figures seated on their thrones, and he bares his teeth in a mockery of a smile.  He will do better this time.

“I believe it is time we get back to work.  Shall we?”

The other four nod their head and vanish to fulfill their duties.  The Vongola has returned.

* * *

  _In the beginning, there were five Great Ones.  Nobody knew where they came from; some said that they emerged from the deepest abyss in the sea like an eldritch giant, some said that they descended from the heavens like benevolent angels, and some even said that they rose from the land itself like great hulking beasts._

_These five beings used to rule over the world, guiding the humans with natural disasters and sometimes their own interference to curb their numbers and with times of prosperity and peace to encourage their survival.  However, one day, the Great Ones disappeared, as if they had never existed, and the world fell to ruin._

_Thousands of years after their fall, a lone human travelled to the resting place of the gods and roused them.  After many battles were fought, the Vindice, the Simon, the Millefiore, and the Varia returned to their thrones to rule.  The Vongola was found on the last day of the human’s journey, when he sacrificed his life to awaken the god from his long slumber and bring him back as a Great One.  Out of respect for the determination and perseverance of the human race, the Vongola made the world once more habitable and, with the other Great Ones, returned the world to order._

_Nothing is mentioned of Tsuna, a young man at ease in the destruction of the world who came to discover the value of humankind.  Nothing is mentioned of Reborn, an insane man who ingested human blood and flesh and stories to become sane again.  Nothing is mentioned of how the two died, and in place the Vongola rose.  Those tales will never be etched in history, but perhaps, you, dear reader, will remember._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome, and I appreciate that you managed to get through that lol. 
> 
> Sincerely,  
> haplesshippo


End file.
